


slip into soft control

by Goatalicious



Category: Claymore (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Begging, Bondage, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Light BDSM, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Vaginal Fingering, a bit OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23793271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goatalicious/pseuds/Goatalicious
Summary: The lengths of red are less about restraint. They bind her arms behind her back, keep her knees bent and legs spread. Escaping isn't impossible to someone with her strength, but it also isn't necessary, not as Jean slips her fingers beneath the rope to check the tightness.Its more about freedom.
Relationships: Clare/Jean (Claymore)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	slip into soft control

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE:  
> No doubt a bit OOC. I just kinda pictured this in a scenario where where they've been in an established relationship for a while.

The lengths of red are less about restraint. They bind her arms behind her back, keep her knees bent and legs spread. Escaping isn't impossible to someone with her strength, but it also isn't necessary, not as Jean slips her fingers beneath the rope to check the tightness.

Its more about freedom.

Her head empties of everything but the sensation of fingertips gliding over her skin. The first few attempts, the helplessness was flaying. Nakedness is hardly anything to her, but for the first time, she had felt exposed. But now she sinks into the vulnerability, lets Jean pull her apart and build her up again. 

"Ready?" Jean asks, lulling Clare back up all while pulling her under. 

Her voice feels almost distant when she replies, "Yes."

Warmth leaves her side for a moment, before returning with a black strip of fabric. A hand guides her chin up. She had barely even realized that her head had been bowed down.

Jean smiles, brushing her bangs aside before wrapping the fabric around her head and lowering it over her eyes. Even before its tied Clare closes her eyes, leaning a bit into the touch. She's rewarded with a huff of fond laughter.

It makes her heart flutter in her chest, lets her melt into the bonds. A hand cups her cheek and she nuzzles into it easily, kissing palms that have molded her a thousand times over. A blush dusts her cheek. She can't see but knows she has been seen. Can feel the ghost of Jeans gaze drag over her skin and leave goosebumps in its wake.

The other hand rests itself over where her heart beats and slides down to her breast. A calloused thumb catches her nipple, which hardens under the attention. Jean shuffles closer on the bed, one leg pressing between her thighs and mouth worshipping the line of her neck. 

She shudders when Jean brands the sensitive spot by her ear. The sheets beneath her knees are rough, but the mattress is forgiving as she squirms in her bonds a bit. Teeth, tongue, and heat unravel her slowly. Her hips move of their own accord against the press of Jeans thigh, a dance that her body has discovered in nights like these.

A hand traces down the line of her back so softly that she jolts at the touch. The tenderness is dizzying, her head lolling back a bit. Without realizing she flexes her legs a bit in their binds. Chews on her bottom lip until it hurts. Tries to ground herself on reflex. 

It's a bit of a habit, not the best one. To use pain as an anchor. But Jean is patient with her. Caresses her until the tension fades away, leaving a buzzing pleasure in its wake. Slips her tongue into Clares mouth to remind her to let go. 

This time she lets herself drift a bit more. Lets Jean hold her because she knows she can trust this. A whimper leaves her and Jean echoes back with a moan. She aches to touch and see but all she can do is feel and hear. 

A hot hand slips down to cup her sex. The promise has her dripping before those fingers part her folds. A whimper that leaves her burns her ears. Jean swallows it and echoes back with her own.

She jolts at the first direct touch, the movement breaking their kiss. The palm of Jean's hand grinds onto her clit while two fingers slip in. "You're so good, getting wet for me." The words sink right down into where Jean works her cunt, hooking to just barely brush that sweet spot. 

Jean is so much better with words than she is. The idea that this is dirty, perhaps shameful in ways is drowned out by the rush of blood and pleasure. If she had the presence of mind, or held onto her shame she might notice the slick sounds getting louder in harmony with her own harsh breaths. 

Finger pads grind into her walls and she gasps loudly. Her head lolls forward, chin meeting her sweaty chest. Jeans free hand glides to the back of her neck and she groans. "Gods, you sound beautiful."

She feels like a precious thing, as Jean's thumb rubs over her damp skin, heavy with more than weight. Even as she hisses back a bit of drool and feels the blindfold slipping down her face. The fingers in her beckon her forward, calling her to an edge. 

"You look like you might come soon."

Clare only nods, shallowly aware of how her thighs are shaking. She barely registers the aborted bucks of her hips, trapped in red rope.

"Tell me, Clare. Do you want to come?" 

With a shaky exhale, she says "Yes." outloud. It doesn't sound like her really. Tattered edges smoothed out. Quiet but not meek.

Climax approaches but instead she's met with the shock of Jean's fingers slipping out. Crying out in loss, she bucks into air and clenches around nothing. Her confinements creak as she flexes in them. 

"My love. I didn't give you permission to come." Jean lets her know, voice chiding just slightly. The hand at her nape rubs soothingly. The whine that leaves her is long, low, and wounded. 

"Jean." Clare says, before she can stop herself. The outburst tinged with desperation. There's tears just barely forming in her eyes. She knows in her thundering heart that she will get what she asked for in the end. 

The warrior doesn't respond to the disguised plea, just pushes Clare back by her shoulders. When her head hits the pillows stacked behind her the blindfold falls down the rest of the way as well. 

In the lowlight of the room Clare watches how Jeans eyes rake over her form. Her back arched, knees splayed. She feels like an offering, the bed their altar. And Jean is a giving Goddess, leaning forward to scrape adoration over her hip bones with blunt teeth. 

Her eyes fight not to shut completely when Jean mouths over the peak of her sex. Hands run over her aching hips. She can't move much more than her head and neck like this. 

Her heads swimming just a bit, jostled by waves of pleasure. The arousal is no longer as sharp as before, diffused all throughout her. She sighs shakily as Jean begins to work at her in earnest, picking at each thread that holds her together. 

There's a rush as her peak approaches relentlessly, where she wonders if Jean will let her come. "Jean!"

Ministrations stop by mouth and she nearly shouts from the loss, before skilled fingers take its place. "Yes?"

"Please let me, Jean-please." slips out of her in a rush, each word shakier as she barely holds unto the edge. The worlds dissolving around them and she can't bring herself to care at all.

"Thats beautiful, but tell me what you need." Jeans own arousal seeping into her voice, leaving both of them breathless. Her arm works faster.

"Pleas-please let me come!" 

"You may come." 

The words are a catalyst, bringing about galaxies behind Clares eyelids. Jean guides the lightning through her, stroking her through tremors until she's spent. She's helpless and powerful all in the same.

Tears that built spill over and run down her cheeks, into her hairline. Jean pulls out of her and wipes them away as she comes down from her high. 

Minutes, or maybe hours later she's pulled upright, a cup held to her lips. Only then does she start to feel the beginnings of awareness come back to her. Her mouth is dry, so she drinks, eyes meeting Jeans over the rim of the cup. 

Jean begins to untie the ropes, even though Clare feels so boneless she might slip through the gaps. There's no shame in the afterwards, not anymore. Even when Jean pats dry between her thighs. She just breathes the warmth of Jean's presence into herself, hoarding it for rainy days. 

Once she's loose, she flops down onto the bed. Jean chuckles and does the same. Taking a moment to cover a wet spot with a loose pillow.

"You did well." Jean tells her, threading a hand into Clare's blonde strands, cupping the side of her head. 

Clare can't help but try a sleepy smile,"You did too." 

They forget all about the ropes at the foot of the bed, and the blindfold scrunched up at Clare's neck. They can deal with everything later.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed please let me know!  
> Also come yell about Claymore with me on tumblr, @ goatalicious.


End file.
